On Sunday night, a truly brilliant gem of television writing was nearly ruined by one of the worst interpretations of female power in history. And it happened right in front of a humble but vigilant feminist blogger who hates nothing worse than misrepresented female power.

Welcome to Thunderdome.

Season two of BBC’s “Sherlock”, a modernized adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, airs on PBS as part of the Masterpiece Mystery! series. If you’ve parked in Dobie garage lately, it should be no surprise that the show is wildly popular, as evidenced by the graffiti proclaiming “I believe in Sherlock” and “Moriarty is REAL.” And I agree: every 90-minute episode is 90 minutes of amazing.

Except one.

“A Scandal in Belgravia” premiered on Sunday night, and I had high hopes for it, knowing that it’s based on my favorite Doyle story: “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Published in 1891, it tells the story of the one person who completely outfoxes Sherlock and gets away scot-free, and lo and behold, she’s a woman. Irene Adler is crafty, creative, and cool as a cucumber, and she wins by using her wits alone. Conan Doyle was ahead of his time when he created a female character whose gender is (for once) not considered an impediment.

Fast forward to 2012, when feminism is alive and well and intelligent depictions of women are both expected and respected. If Adler was great in 1891, she should be even better now, right?

Wrong and a half.

The new and “improved” Adler makes her living as a dominatrix. Her speech is littered with innuendo and outright flirting, and nearly every person she mentions in conversation is a client. She uses her sex to distract, unnerve, deceive, and get her way. And while she’s highly intelligent, her wit always takes a back seat to her sexual allure, which her entire life is centered around.

The updated Adler is basically a walking warning sign: “Don’t let women be sexy, or they’ll use it to hurt you.” Adler’s reboot treats women’s sexuality as dangerous and villainous, not natural and positive. Moreover, Adler can only be powerful and commanding when she’s showing off her goods and talking dirty to the hero. Lord forbid she ever get ahead in life without providing fan service for the men in the audience.

So “Belgravia” makes a very bad choice. The new Adler is inexplicably built around sex, when the original Adler’s sexuality was never an issue, much less a means for reducing her to male eye candy. But at least Adler beats Sherlock in the end, right?

Not anymore. The updated Adler actually loses the mental game against our hero, and what’s worse, she loses because she falls in love. Silly women and their feelings, am I right? Clearly the message to take away from all this is that women are slaves to both their emotions and to the men who exert dominance over them.

So “Belgravia” needlessly sexualizes Adler and forces her to lose to Sherlock for no conceivable reason. At least those are its only sins, right? Nope--it’s got one more ace up its sleeve.

The updated Adler identifies herself as a lesbian. A sensitive portrayal of a sexy, powerful woman who chooses to form relationships with women might actually be worth watching and would certainly be relevant in this age. But we never actually see Adler connecting with women or even flirting with them. Her identification as a lesbian is nothing more than a siren call to those males in the audience who watch lesbian porn and perk up when they hear the phrase “catfight.”

Worst of all, when Adler actually does fall in love, the object of her affection is a man. Take-away message? Being a lesbian is fine, but when true love comes along, she should shape up and become a good hetero like the rest of us.

That last sentence made me throw up a little in my mouth.

“Belgravia” is an absolute flop, but next week’s episode, “The Hounds of Baskerville,” is certifiably brilliant. The writers really do know what they’re doing, despite this week’s grievous error. Let’s just hope no self-respecting female viewers were driven away.